


One of our World Famous Talks (Man to Munchkin)

by mybrotherharry



Category: Full House (US)
Genre: Coming Out, Family, Fluff, For you if you LOVE Jesse-Michelle relationship, Gen, LGBT Character, Love, So fluffy your teeth will rot, Uncle Jesse for Best Uncle Ever, Uncle-Niece Bonding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-24
Updated: 2018-03-24
Packaged: 2019-04-07 07:57:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14076393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mybrotherharry/pseuds/mybrotherharry
Summary: Grown-up Michelle goes back home to California to visit her uncle Jesse and tell him about a new development in her life.If only it were that simple.





	One of our World Famous Talks (Man to Munchkin)

**Author's Note:**

> So, I will never stop being bitter about the Olsen twins not coming back for Fuller House.  
> So this is my coda for if a grown up Michelle came back to the house to tell her uncle something important about her life.

Michelle peeps over the heads of all the others waiting in the arrivals lounge, trying to catch sight of that thick mane of hair. Uncle Jesse's hair only became silver fox grey, and eventually white, but he never actually went bald.

"Munchkin!" she hears on her right, and sure enough, she sees him, tall and lanky and thin, his dress shirt hanging off his frame.

"Uncle Jesse!" she runs into his arms, and it's like coming home. He picks her up as if she were still three years old, and singing with the band, and the scent of his cologne is filled with reminders of the safest place in the world.

"Let me look at ya, munchkin, oh my God, are they feeding you in New York? You are thinner than ever!"

The same old smile, dimpling cheeks, and brightest, kindest eyes she has seen in anyone.

They step out together in the San Francisco sun. She turns her face up, soaking up the warmth, as he nudges her toward where he's parked the car. On the ride home, they catch each other up on everything they've missed, which is not much, because she's talked to him more frequently than she's called her own dad.

He was there through her first heartbreak in college, he was there through her depressive period with the loss of her best friend to cancer, and he was there to threaten her last boyfriend with the shovel talk.

“How are the boys?”

“Fine,” he smiles at her, and for a moment, it’s like she is five again and he is taking her to kindergarten. “Nicky’s still serious about enlisting. Alex just settled in at Georgetown.”

“And Aunt Becky?”

“Your aunt and I are fine, munchkin.”

“You know, I am actually twenty one years old.”

“Don’t remind me,” he grimaces, and she tries very hard not to roll her eyes at him.

“That nickname is getting old.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know how it starts. Suddenly, you’re too good for your nicknames and sleep time lullabies, and soon you’ll be telling me you’re too old for ice cream sundaes.”

“Depends on what flavor sprinkles you got, old man.”

“Chocolate,” he winks at her. “Oh yeah, I am your uncle. I can still play ya like a freaking fiddle, munchkin.”

“Well played,” and the sound of their laughter rings in her ears all the way home.

 ~

Being back in the old house is bittersweet.

Dad moved to Seattle with Jessica, his latest on again, off again girlfriend; and Joey has since taken his career to Portland. It’s just uncle Jesse and aunt Becky in the old house, with the boys having moved out just a few months ago.

Her room hasn’t really changed much over the years, mostly because both dad and uncle Jesse are sentimental saps.

Aunt Becky greets her with a big hug. She looks thinner, weaker than ever, and Michelle knows that the most recent round of chemo took a huge toll on her. They spend the evening cozied up together on the couch, in pajamas and socks, with mugs of hot chocolate and cookies. Uncle Jesse makes her mug without marshmallows, remembering what she likes, even as he hands Aunt Becky a mug with the little cubes.

He never really stops taking care of her.

They talk late into the night, and Michelle’s never felt more at home.

 ~

On the second day of her stay, she helps around the house. They change light bulbs together in the garage, and she takes a look at his jeep.

“I always wanted you to be like Rosie the Riveter,” he says, as she bends over the hood. She took advanced mechanics in college, and her love for big, loud, noisy machines never dwindled.

“I know you secretly wanted a nephew,” she teases; and he retorts, “Oh, it was never a secret, munchkin.”

He has taken very good care of himself, but it’s undeniable that he is aging. There is more grey at his temples now,, hair streaking white and gradually silver-fox, his cheeks are sagging, the dimples more easier on his lined face. He is as skinny and lanky as he always was, but there is wisdom in his eyes. He takes longer to get up off the couch, and moves stiffly.

Taking care of aunt Becky has taken a toll on him too.

 ~

“Baby,” he croons at her as they’re doing the dishes the next night, him rinsing, her drying. “Michelle smiling. Michelle smiling.”

She whips at him with the dish towel.

Later, much later, after the kitchen floor is sopping wet and there is dish soap in his hair, he laughs, holding his stomach, but tells her silently, “I sure wanted nephews, but God, am I grateful for not getting what I wanted,” and kisses her forehead.

 ~

He drives her back to the airport at the end of her stay.

The ride back is quieter, Michelle looking out the window, her throat closing up.

At the airport, he helps her with ther luggage and insists on wheeling the suitcase for her till the time to check in. She looks at the ticket, her IDs, her purse, and looks up at him to see his thoughtful expression.

“What?”

“Munchkin.”

“Yeah?”

“What are you not telling me?”

She has to blink away the wetness in her eyes, because she is both terrified and relieved; terrified, because if he shuns her now, she will be utterly destroyed; and relieved because a part of her needed to know that he will always understand her better than anyone else.

“Come on, kiddo,” he chides. “I raised you, doll. I know when you’re worrying your head about telling me something. Whatever it is, I will do my best to help. What’s up, Michelle?”

“Uncle Jesse -” she says, and her throat closes up on the last syllable.

His eyes hold slowly rising panic now, having not expected whatever the problem is to be bad enough to make her cry. He gently nudges her to a chair, and settles down next to her, holding her hand.

“Baby -”

“I am seeing someone,” she chokes out.

“That’s great, munchkin. What’s his name?”

“Ruth -” she gasps, not able to look him in the eye. “Her name is Ruth.”

Silence. Her heart is thudding in her chest against her ribcage. If he looks at her with disgust now - she will -

“Oh baby,” he says, and that’s a smile in his voice. “Oh Michelle, honey, look at me.”

She meets his eyes, and they are gorgeous as always, deep and sincere.

“Michelle, I would love to meet Ruth. I am sure she is wonderful, and I will put her through the same family tradition of shovel talk that I have given all of your previous - partners.”

She chuckles, and it is watery, and the relief is overwhelming. She sags in the cheap, plastic chair, like the air has been punched out of her lungs. She hadn’t realized how important his acceptance was to her.

“Michelle,” he hands her a bottle of water, uncapped; as always, taking care of her. “Baby, I dunno what I did to make you think you need to be scared to tell me something like this. Honey, it doesn’t matter to me who you love. I am sure they won’t ever be worthy of you -”

She chuckles weakly again. This is an old argument between them. In some ways, he is more protective of her than Dad.

“- but baby, the only thing I want for you is your happiness. If that’s going to be with a guy or a girl, it doesn’t matter to me. Come here.”

He is kneeling on the floor in front of her chair, and just like that, with his arms outstretched, he is everything she needs in this moment. She rushes into his arms, and he engulfs her like he’s trying to hold on to her too.

He kisses her hair, and brushes away her tears with the pads of his thumbs.

“Michelle smiling -” he croons. “Michelle smiling.”

She laughs, unable to help herself.

He hands her tissues from her purse, and she cleans herself up. He won’t ever stop taking care of her, even if she is twenty one. But today, he has a good excuse because she cried all over him in the airport visitors’ lounge.

“Thank you, uncle Jesse,” she says, and there is weight in his gaze.

“I never want you to be anything other than who you are, munchkin.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too,” he hugs her again. “You have a safe flight now. And bring Ruth next time. Who knows, if she passes the family eligibility test, and if you are serious about her, there is always room in my heart for nieces-by-marriage.”

She feels her face burn.

“Uncle Jesse!” she whacks him on the arm.

“There’s my Michelle. Love you, munchkin.”

“Love you too, Uncle Jesse.”

~

**Author's Note:**

> Remember, not all LGBT people have families like Uncle Jesse, today is a good day to [ donate / contribute](https://give.thetrevorproject.org/give/63307/#!/donation/checkout) to the Trevor Project.   
> If you can give even a cup of coffee's worth, it will count. 
> 
> Say hi on tumblr: I am [ here](http://baffledkingcomposinghallelujah.tumblr.com/)


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